My name is David, and I am a woman.

I can feel the silk of the dress as it flows through my fingers. The light grey color seems to shimmer in the light. I feel the way my breasts are supported by the bodice, and look down.

They're real.

The dress hugs my curves to the waist where it flairs out into a full skirt to the floor. I've seen this dress before, but I just can't place it. I walk over to a floor length mirror and stare at myself, I can't help it. My hair is a flaming fall of red below my shoulders. I almost cry just at that.

I'm beautiful. For the first time I see what everyone else always claims. A woman walks up behind me. Her dress is a vision of lace and pearls and silk, all in white.

"Are you going to hog the mirror all morning, Donna?"

"Of course not, Sarah. You look so beautiful."

"We both look beautiful, Matron of Honor."

Everything seems wrong, and something in my mind is screaming at me. My happiness at seeing Sarah overrides my sense of the wrongness.

"I still can't believe I got married first," I say with a little smile.

"Well, you two were dating for long enough. Sometimes his brother still scares me though."

"Whose brother?"

"You know, Steven. He is so angry at you, you know."

I see something begin to grow on her stomach. It's a splash of color on the white fabric.

"Sarah, is there something wrong?"

She tries to speak, but no words come out. The red is covering her dress and dripping from the wound. I can see the tear in the cloth. No, it's a cut. Sarah collapses to the floor and I'm holding her.

She puts a finger to my lips to keep me from talking.

"There you are, Dee. It was so hard to reach you."

My mind is awhirl. I don't understand what is happening, but this feels so real: this memory of a place.

"You know Steven's not the right one for you, right?"

"You are?"

I hear her laugh again, and I have to smile, "No, Dee. We were never meant to be. I'm sorry I caused so many problems for you for so long. I should never have said those things."

"Don't try to talk," I say when her arm falls to her side.

"Be the woman you were meant to be, Dee."

"But Sarah..."

"No, you were meant to be a woman, Dee. Everyone can see it. Don't let me stop you from that."

"But I loved you."

"I know, you did. And I didn't realize until the very end that it wasn't romantic, those feelings I felt for you. You're my sister, Dee."

"But..."

"No more buts, even if yours is quite pretty. I have to leave soon."

"Stay with me."

"I can't. Please, forgive me?"

"For what?"

"For my cruel words. I should never have told you I preferred you as a boy. It wasn't true."

This time she closes her eyes as she dies.

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I woke up with tears in my eyes and running down my face. I've never remembered my dreams, maybe an impression here or there, but nothing concrete or whole.

This dream has stuck with me, however, and has just as much relevance as the real memory of her death. I don't believe in visitations from the other side. Could this have been one? Sure, but it could also have been my subconscious mind working through issues that I'd held for a long time.

Either way, I woke up knowing that I'd been beating myself up about something I had no control over.

I didn't kill Sarah. Greg did.

The problem was that Greg was Steven's brother. There would always be a question in my mind over whether or not Steven loved me enough to forget his brother. I was an only child, so I was at a disadvantage to know how siblings related to one another. Personally, I don't think that I'd ever be able to forget Sarah, the closest thing to a sister I knew.

If I couldn't forget Sarah, how much harder would it be for Steven?

I dried my tears and got ready for the day. I took special care on my makeup and clothing, as I wanted to be stunning. I wanted to feel good about myself, as I was going to cut ties with someone who made me happy, knowing that eventually he would break my heart.

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"Could I speak to you for a moment, Steven?"

"Sure," he said with a smile that almost melted my heart.

I think my lack of returning smile told him something might be up, but I began before he could ask what it was.

"The boy I loved, Steven, had not a thing wrong with him. He was charming and handsome. He was perfect, like a sketch in my book; unchanging and perfect."

"I'm not that boy anymore," Steven said, a little coldly, a little hurt, and a lot confused.

"I know you're not. That's what I'm trying to say. We're not who we were so long ago. I was never Donna."

"I don't understand."

"I know. It's hard for me to explain, so let me try. I was never Donna."

"Sure you were. You entered the pageant as Donna Lowell."

"You met a girl you called Donna, but she never existed. She was actually a boy who was doing a pageant with his girlfriend, because she couldn't do it otherwise. That the boy was really a girl inside has nothing to do with whether or not he thought of himself as a boy."

"You flirted with me."

"I seem to remember a mutual flirting society at the time."

"That's not the point, Donna," he said getting angry.

"You're not gay, Steven."

"What?" he said, shocked.

"That's why you cling to my being Donna back then. You want to convince yourself you're not gay. Do you look at me and see a man or a woman, be honest."

"A woman."

"And do I kiss like a man or a woman?"

He colored, a lot, but answered me, "A woman."

"So, I am a woman, that's all you need to know. If you're attracted to me now, then I don't think you're gay. Maybe bi, but..."

He laughed at me and I smiled at him.

"I'm not Donna, Steven. I never was. I've always been myself. I'm David Louise Lowell, Steven."

"I know all this."

"Then call me David and then kiss me."

A look of revulsion crossed over his features for just a moment, but it was all I really needed.

"You can't really handle a relationship, and I won't be in a relationship so you can prove something to yourself."

"But Donna..."

"My name is David, Steven," I said with as much venom as I could muster, "and I am a woman. I don't need you to prove that to anyone."

"David, please..."

"I'm sorry, Steven. I've made my decision."

"So, that's it then, you're running back to Gary?"

I began to laugh, "Of course not."

"I thought..."

"He's my boss. There are a whole other mess of reasons why that would never work."

"David...Dee...please..."

"Find love, Steven. Don't let your brother rule your life. If you want to be with a man, then do that for yourself. If you find a woman who makes you really happy, then be with her. I think I really did love you, once, but I just can't know."

He began to cry a bit, so I gave him a kiss and a hug and walked away. I made it to the bathroom before I broke down myself.

It's amazing how many emotions that tears can convey. For most, they represent grief, even though there are so many shades of the emotion that are conveyed with those tears.

They can represent a joy so powerful that it just can't be contained and spills out.

There are tears of laughter, where our mirth just can't take it and explodes forth on everyone around us, being infectious it feeds, and fuels, the mirth of those around us.

There are tears of anger.

These tears were none of those. They were relief. I hadn't realized until that very moment how much I was afraid of being in a relationship with Steven. I loved the idea of being in a relationship, but there was that small doubt in the back of my mind, that small fear, that Steven was exactly like his brother.

I finished my little jag, fixed up my makeup, and went out to the judges' table for the second day of the pageant.

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As you might remember, if you paid attention to such things, Sarah did indeed win. Having been there myself, I know she was the best one there, and knowing that there was a decidedly anti-TG judge at the beginning of the contest...

Sarah was a beauty up there in her crown.

I'm glad she got this opportunity. Even without Sarah, my Sarah, I know it changed my life for the better.

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So much had changed since the last time I sat here in the waiting room, and so much had remained the same. Even with my new female hormones coursing through my body, I was still very much flat as a board. I'd just have to give them time.

When I eventually got back to talk to Dr. Funk, I was relieved that the waiting would be over. It was time to close this chapter on my life.

"Don...David, how nice to see you."

"I'm not staying long, Dr. Funk. I just wanted to let you know that you should lose your medical license. Please don't contact me or my mother again."

"David...please. Be reasonable."

"No, James. I won't 'be reasonable'. I've realized that you are as much to blame for the events as Greg ever was. You are culpable for that question I had to answer. You created a situation where I was despised. Did I really win, or did you manufacture a win for me?"

He was silent and looked anywhere but at me.

"That was all the answer I needed. Did you ever consider what that competition might do to me?"

"Look at you; you're beautiful and successful..."

"I'm twenty four and I look like I'm thirteen because I couldn't go through puberty."

"That's not my fault."

"Really? Because I thought it was because I knew I needed female hormones but couldn't bring myself to have them because of the fact my best friend was dead."

"I didn't kill her."

"Would she be dead if you hadn't done what you did do?"

"I don't know," he said very quietly.

"And that's why you should never have tried to manage the event like you did. The other girls deserved better than that. I deserved better than that. I've already reported you to the ethics board for the state of Florida. Just thought I'd let you know."

"You can't do this to me," he said, suddenly angry.

I just stood and looked down at him, still seated in his oversized chair. "I already have."

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I felt empowered by all of the interactions I'd had so far in Florida. I was getting some of my own back. I'd come down here ready for anything, but I'd let old behaviors and patterns knock me from my path.

It was good for me, to return here, to close these chapters in my life.

I gave my notice to my new boss, who was sad to see me go. I did, however, agree to finish the Bryant building for them. It would be my last sculpture in glass and steel, so I made the most of it.

It's beautiful if you ask me.

There were two messages waiting for me on my phone when I turned it back on while waiting at the luggage carousel in the airport.

The first was Steven asking for a date. The second was Mr. Bryant, saying there was a problem with his painting.

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Mr. Bryant's home reminded me of Mama's, at least in size. The landscaping was more...friendly to children. It wasn't the art piece my mother kept around her own property.

I walked up to the door and knocked. I truly didn't expect Mr. Bryant to answer the door, but he was the one who did.

"David, come in."

"Call me Dee, if it's more comfortable for you."

"Ok, then, Dee. Welcome to my abode. Let me show you what I was talking about."

He led me into a large open room. My painting filled one of the walls. There was some muted lighting on it, and it felt almost as if this were a museum setting and not someone's home.

"I don't see..."

"Look around. Take in the entire space."

"I see a lot of blank walls, Mr. Bryant."

"Exactly."

"Exactly?"

"Yes, I want more pieces. To balance out this lovely one. So, just let me know which gallery you normally use..."

I blushed and looked away. "I'm sorry," I said looking back at him, "but I'm not currently shown in any galleries. None of them wanted my art."

"Well, you just haven't talked to the right owner, then. Here, let me get you an introduction with Brian, a good friend of mine."

Mr. Bryant pulled out his phone and dialed a number, "Hello, Brian? Yes, the woman I was telling you about? Apparently we can't find her gallery because she doesn't have one."

He stood there listening for a moment and then handed me the phone, "It's for you."

"Hello? I'm not looking for charity."

"Good, because I'm not offering any. Bring a sample of your work to my gallery tomorrow. If I don't like it, then you're no worse off than you are now."

"Well, thanks, I guess."

"Look, I like the picture at Henry's house. If the rest of your work measures up...just bring it by tomorrow, okay?"

"Ok. See you tomorrow."

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I sat in my living room looking at my paintings, trying to decide which I would take with me tomorrow. It beat trying to banish the butterflies in my stomach that were anticipating Gary coming through the door.

I'd seriously considered wearing a negligee, but figured that it wasn't quite the image I wanted to project. So, I wore my sexiest, slinkiest dress. No shoes. My pixie-cut hair was easy to arrange.

I wore some dangle earrings and the best makeup I could.

I calmed my emotions, again, and tried to decide which of the paintings I would take with me tomorrow. I had eight I was thinking best displayed my skill with brush and paint.

The knock on the door finally came, and I opened it to a very well groomed Gary.

"Come on in," I said with a smile.

"You look..."

"How do I look, Gary? Really? Do you see David when you look at me?"

"I see a sexy woman in a dress."

"Really? So, if I stripped naked right here, right now, would you have sex with me?"

"What's this about, Dee?"

"It's about perception, Gary, and you never answered my question."

"I know you don't really want..."

"That wasn't the question. Do I arouse you?"

"That's not fair, Dee."

"Really? If I'm sexy in this, then it should be exactly the point."

"I want..."

"The taboo of it all? A man in a dress?"

I undid the straps. I unzipped the dress; thankfully the zip was on the side. I stood there, naked before him. Finally, I saw the bulge begin to form in his pants.

"Gary, I'm a woman. I'm not your perfect beard."

"What are you talking about?"

"I may look like a guy right now, to you, but I'm not. I'll begin to grow breasts. My hips might widen. I'll likely get curves. This body that excites you now is temporary."

"You don't have to..."

"I'm not a man, Gary. I have to do this for myself. Please understand."

He walked over, put his arms around me, and kissed me. "I like you, David. I really like you."

"I think it's time that you left."

"But David..."

"Goodbye, Gary."

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to come up with something that would make me change my mind. I turned my back on him and got dressed in that slinky dress again. I heard the door open and close and only then was I really able to relax.

How did I know that Gary was gay? It was the little things, I think. Nothing really came to me forcefully until I realized that he dressed in the same types of clothing that I had when pretending to be a guy. He has great fashion sense. Also, I remembered seeing him passing glances with the waiter, a really good looking guy, on our first date.

Little things that build up into a picture that I didn't want to see with my conscious mind.

I liked Steven and Gary, but they weren't for me. Eventually, someday, I hoped to be in a place where I could be in a relationship and be ready for it, but for now, I needed some girl time.

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I carefully removed the tube from my backseat and walked into the gallery. I was wearing some skinny jeans and an oversized sweater, flats, of course. There was no way I was dressing up to impress this guy. I'd had my fair share of rejection in the past. I had money to live frugally on, which I could easily do. This, selling my art, was something that I didn't need to do, so I didn't care if I succeeded or not.

Brian was a sweetheart. Gay as they come, mores the pity. I would have liked to go on a few dates with him, nothing serious, but I really wanted to get some experience with some no strings attached dating.

He looked at my paintings and booked my first showing in three weeks.

"These are good, Dee, what's more, they're fun and unique. I especially like this one. Where's the redhead in this one?"

"She was painting it."

He looked again at the redhead that appeared in most of my paintings, and then looked carefully at me, "Wow...you really are the one in all these pictures. Well, I guess that we'll call these your early period, and the ones without the woman your late period."

"You make me sound like a master."

"For the prices you'll be commanding, people will expect it."

"That one painting..."

"Just sets a bar. Sure, I don't expect all of them to sell for that much, but I figure we could easily mark these as sixty to a hundred."

"You mean between sixty and one hundred thousand don't you?"

"Of course."

Each painting I sold would be worth a year of work as an architect.

"You're kidding. You have to be..."

"No, I'm not. Sometimes, you just have to sell one before people realize you're worth it. Most Gallery owners are risk averse. I am myself. However, with at least two purchased works of art out there, that puts you in a whole other category to all the hopefuls that come through my door."

I just looked at him and smiled, "Ok, then, see you in two weeks."

"See what you can do about getting more into your 'after the lady' period. Just one and people will think it a fluke."

I nodded my head and walked out the door.

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Life is weird. My living room was a much different place with all of my paintings down at the gallery. No, I hadn't had a showing yet, but I was looking forward to it. Feverishly painting as many things as I could think of, but looking forward to it.

"Tell me again how the picture disappeared?" Angie said from her place next to me on the couch.

"It is in my gallery showing."

"But, I wanted to see it again..."

"And you will, I've bought it from myself."

We were watching a movie on my new TV. Yes, I'd purchased one. If I were going to have friends over, I needed something to entertain them with. I didn't see myself as having a future as a stripper.

It was nice. All four of the girls from the club were there with me. We were watching sappy movies, by which I mean chick flicks, and enjoying the hell out of it. We were five single women, and we were content to be.

At least I was.

The future might change that for any one of us, but I was living the life I wanted to, finally. We'd be piling into my bed later, to sleep. Even if it was a king, it was a tight fit with the five of us. We only did it rarely and usually only when we'd drunk too much to safely drive home.

Like tonight.

We were celebrating my impending showing. We were celebrating Colette getting out of a really bad relationship. Mostly, we were just celebrating.

It felt really good to be the woman that I knew I was meant to be.